The Avenger

His eyes closed but the guns were up and singing a chorus of death. Bullets hitting their marks, spreading the word of pain and agony to those unfortunate enough to receive them.

Max walked through the room like he was taking a Sunday stroll. His arms swinging around and firing off a round here and there. He was in no mood to play around; this was business. This was payback. He was an avenging angel.

Cries were heard as men fell to the floor like discarded candy wrappers.

Angus Mode heard the cries from the men in the other room; he glanced out to see what was going on. To see Max glide through the room in a ritualistic dance, bringing nothing but death to those who were in his way.

"Damn," Angus muttered as he grabbed the case off the table. He told the other occupants in the room that the deal was off. "Got to book."

"What's going on?" asked one of the shadowy men.

"Someone who doesn't like our company, I gather," Angus said with a snide smile as he headed for the back door.

The MK Collectors Incident

Brain's on fire, he thought. That's a good thing.

Max sat on the edge of the building, naked, with a cellphone in his hands and a cup of coffee close by. The November air was cold but he was used to it; he just needed time to think. He hadn't gotten any sleep throughout the night; he had been on the computer surfing. Digging around the cybergrounds, trying to uncover hidden bones.

I need something to shake me up, he thought. You going to do that for me, city?

The morning was upon him, the sun peaking above the horizon as if peering up from under the bed sheets. He brought the coffee up to his lips and took a taste. The sound of the city was beating, like blood going through the heart, a steady rhythmic sound. 

Max didn't care if he was seen or not; he just needed this time to think.

"Well now," said one man as he landed on the roof. "Mr. Cube I presume."

Max didn't even budge, didn't even turn to face the man. He placed the coffee down beside him and picked up his cigarette that was sitting on the edge. Ashes falling like dirty snowflakes.

There was a chuckle from a second voice as well. "Talk about catching someone with their pants down."

Max was like The Thinker on the ledge; he didn't even acknowledge the would-be assassins. Right now they could blow him away and there wouldn't be a care in the world. He was beyond them.

"Mr. Cube," the first man said, stepping forward. "MK has been searching for you for a long time now. We've been assigned to bring you in. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"I want it to be the hard way," the second fellow said as he cocked a weapon. Trying to get Max to turn and face him, but like a gargoyle sentry Max just kept his eyes ahead. "Last three round-ups have been cakewalks."

A smile cracked Max's lips and he turned his head to one side. "Catch me if you can," he said and like the ashes from the cigarette he dropped from the ledge.

In the Nile

FADE IN:

EXT. NILE RIVER - DAY

Somewhere floating along the Nile in a luxury boat.

WRITTEN: EGYPT 1886

A SERVANT walking along the deck carrying a tray of drinks. Sitting underneath a canopy are PROFESSOR ALLAN TURBUCK and a young woman, MAGGIE. She has a large sketchpad in her hands. Off to one side we see WILLIAM BONNEY.

PROFESSOR:
... and then the tomb was discovered only a few days ago.

His fingers are working on a pipe as he refills it. The SERVANT hands him a drink; he takes it and places it down.

PROFESSOR:
What do you two expect to find there?

WILLIAM:
I reckon I don't know, but she does.

The PROFESSOR looks at MAGGIE who is sketching in the book.

PROFESSOR:
Well Milady? What is so important for you and this gentlemen to risk your life to seek?

He waits. WILLIAM sits there twiddling his thumbs. The SERVANT hands WILLIAM a drink; he accepts it and takes a sip.

PROFESSOR: (To William)
Is she always like this?

WILLIAM:
Let me tell you one thing. I wouldn't press the issue with her.

WILLIAM taps the pad. MAGGIE looks up and then smiles.

ANGLE ON: Over MAGGIE's shoulder. We see that she has been drawing three artifacts on the body of a woman that looks strikingly like her.

MAGGIE:
Sorry Professor. My mind was drifting there.

ANGELE ON: The PROFESSOR lights up his pipe.

PROFESSOR:
You must know some influential people to get you this far from the safety of your home?

The PROFESSOR takes a long puff from his pipe.

PROFESSOR:
A pretty waif such as yourself is very uncommon in these parts.

ANGLE ON: WILLIAM throws a glance at MAGGIE but she doesn't stir at all. She just cracks a huge smile and tussles her hair. WILLIAM lets out a huge sigh of relief.

ANGLE ON: PROFESSOR studies MAGGIE.

PROFESSOR:
So why are you here?